


Getting and Losing

by cleodoxa



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleodoxa/pseuds/cleodoxa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyberpunk/Space au.  In a world where everyone has computers and internet access in their own minds, Mark's invention of Facebook has political implications that are already becoming disturbing by the time he's kidnapped.  With Eduardo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

The Facebook story turned out so much more frustrating and less straightforward than Mark thought it should. Not unsatisfactory, exactly. But during the depositions it could feel like having prepared himself a dish a little oversalted and having to finish it all without letting on it was less than delicious. Mark had always tended to be more interested in what was happening in his own head than other people’s, and great ideas were happening in his head; it was a great time not to care too much about other people. Mark had always wanted to play in the big league, been morbidly afraid he wouldn’t get there, and he got himself in there while still at college. It had been exciting and inspiring and delightful at the beginning, and, Mark irritably asserted to himself, so it was now. Who cared if the middle (of the beginning, not even the middle proper) had veered off-track on occasion?

Facebook had been an excellent idea to start with, as a simple but astute social networking website. Someone would probably have done it ages ago if not the time when the net was wiped out at periods. But those problems had been (allowed to be) solved, the time was right, and Mark got there first. So much of the net revolved around taking people out of themselves, but Facebook instead affirmed people’s offline identities while surfing, creating a corner that looked like home. It became clear that Eduardo had been an unfortunately indulgent choice of partner, coming as he did from a background that still insisted that only the physically tangible was real – namely profit. The fact that Facebook existed, not just for Mark but for increasing numbers of people – it was spreading _off-planet_ \-- did not count, until _monetizing_ had been achieved. And that would happen, at some point, Mark was sure. But Eduardo was as edgy and neurotic about it as Mark was about making something exist in the first place. Not as efficient, though, Mark thought when Sean Parker got them the Thiel investment.

He was still brooding over the frozen account, of course, and it was during the brooding that Mark decided to extend Facebook beyond the confines of one site. A version of the net that only worked if people disclosed themselves. They could sell (monetizing for you, Eduardo) chips that would store information on a Facebook database, information that would show up if anyone wanted to check who was looking at a site at any one time. People could find their friends out in the boundless wilds, feel like they could colonise their own friendly little corners. And Mark – Mark would be able to see even better how far he could reach. He had lost enthusiasm for sharing ideas with Eduardo. He could find people who got even more excited. So when Sean asked “Do you _really_ want him on board?” Mark said, “No. How can I get rid of him?”

Mark felt cheerful and composed during the time between this decision and Eduardo being told about the dilution. A strange limbo between what Mark thought was happening and what Eduardo thought was happening; a place where Mark mostly ignored Eduardo and didn’t feel much at the thought of getting rid of him beyond the satisfaction of a job done, but felt comfortable enough being officially friends still. Then there came the moment when Eduardo had just found out about the dilution and shook Mark’s shoulders, startling him out of his semi-conscious immersion in Facebook files, so that he shut down with a horrible jerk and forgot to save. Sean shouted “Hey” and yeah, that was kind of a mean thing to do to someone, not an Eduardo sort of thing. Eduardo was really letting himself go and Mark didn’t know why he felt taken aback, what he’d expected. And he realised that he’d ended his friendship with Eduardo, and it stung, and there was no taking it back.

He got over it, because it was done, and because he was naturally defensive and wasn’t going to sit about reproaching himself. By the time of the depositions Mark had a sneaking feeling that a lot of how he’d behaved was childish, not business-like. He tried not to see it, so he wouldn’t have to feel sorry about it, not even about how Eduardo felt -- But there wasn’t any point in feeling sorry anyway.

*

Facebook and Mark went from one measure of success to another, and Mark had astonishing amounts of money. He didn’t even care that much, but there were moments of disconnection when he went, wow, he was a very, very rich man now, that was who he was. The chips people used with Facebook were connected to more and more features, now more elaborately informative. Mark liked to point out that people were able to choose from different levels of features. There were chips that picked up on and transmitted moods now, which obviously facilitated communication beautifully, if a little too well. Controversy was particularly attracted by the feature that disclosed whether a user was human or cyborg to some degree, which now came with most available chips. This was pretty basic information, that impacted upon other basic information, so Mark didn’t really see the value of bypassing it. He liked to point out, when questioned, that to some extent we were all cyborgs now everyone had access to computing facilities inside their own brains. Then there were things like sexuality and politics, which could prove a little tricky on Facebook itself, let alone its wider application. Mark was in the business of reflecting people’s personal lives, not managing them – not micro-managing, anyway. Mark couldn’t help noticing – or at least, it took little effort to notice – that Eduardo, for whatever reason, obviously tried to boycott Facebook in favor of the old net, which was now only updated by people who also had issues with Facebook, and grew less and less useful. He very rarely showed up when Mark checked users.

The growing interest the Home System Union was taking in Facebook was a little unsettling, Mark admitted to himself. He didn’t discuss it with anyone exactly, but in conversation with people like Dustin and Chris, Mark could detect the same kind of tension. The Home System Union thought Facebook was a gift to sociologists. It could be very difficult to collate information about the former inhabitants of Earth now that they were scattered all over the galaxy. A symptom of this scatteredness was disaffection, people feeling the lack of concrete origin and locale based identities, something particularly felt outside of the Home System. Facebook helped people feel that if nothing else, they were all part of the human race (unless, perhaps they were cyborgs, Mark wondered) who all met on the same virtual plane. It wasn’t like they even said anything that wasn’t what like Mark said, it was just – they were the HSU. You’d have to be a moron to really, deep-down trust them.

*

It was through email that Mark was notified of his impending tour of the galaxy, promoting Facebook to planets that hadn’t picked up on it yet, or were cold-shouldering it. Mark was Mark, but still, the Union wouldn’t deal with him in person when they were planning to borrow his ideas, his work _and_ when he was a very, very rich man now? The email talked of his ship due to leave the next week, and the Union officials who would meet with him to brief him before accompanying him on it.

“So guess who’s telling me, not asking me, to go on a galaxy-wide tour?” said Mark, crouching by Dustin’s desk. He got an irritated look as Dustin hurried to save what he’d been working on before his mind closed it down, then a concerned one.

“Shit, out of the Home System and everything?”

“Especially out of the Home System, that’s the point,” said Mark.

“Is anyone going with you?”

“Just Union officials, don’t worry.”

Dustin pulled a funny face. “Are you sure you don’t _want_ anyone to come with you? Being alone in deep space with Union officials is pretty creepy.”

Mark hadn’t quite begun to think about it that way but – “I think I’d rather everyone at Facebook stayed in one place. And I can still talk to people, I’ll just ignore the officials, it can be like I’m not even in the ship.”

There was no point in trying to put too much of a varnish on bad news so Mark hurried off to find Chris and ask him to sort out some kind of Mark-Zuckerberg-is-touring-the-galaxy-yay-we’re-so-excited notice. Which kind of _was_ putting a varnish on bad news, but whatever.

Later Mark tried to think of some pros. It wasn’t like he didn’t _like_ the idea of infiltrating the whole galaxy, but it was hard not to feel nervous about the HSU’s interest in him infiltrating the galaxy. He didn’t have any particular desire to travel and see other planets for himself, which would have been the most obvious pro otherwise. Even if he tried to think of it as a bore and a hassle that would be over in the end, the prospect of essentially being in the Union’s keeping was, as Dustin said, pretty creepy. And there probably wasn’t anything he could do about it. Mark really wasn’t as powerful as he’d liked to think he would be when he got to where he was now.

*

He tried though, when he met the Union officials at the shipping station. After, that is, a little choke fell from his lips. Two sullen, unamused Winklevoss faces met him. There was an older guy with them, slight in comparison, smugly polished and distant as he ignored the discord between the other three, stepping forward to shake Mark’s hand. “Very leased to meet you, Mr. Zuckerberg – Mark.”

Mark let him take his limp hand and return it to him a moment later.

“They’re letting you accompany me? How the fuck does that work?”

“I guess the Union thought you’d appreciate a familiar face,” said one of the twins – Mark never did really learn which was which. Something about the particular shade of sarcasm in his tone suggested unhappiness about being here, rather than simply aggression under a coat of oil. Mark could only imagine the Winklevosses had been chosen for their antipathy towards him which would hone their drive to keep him in line. Mark was sure their ridiculous lawsuit against him had only ended the way it had because the HSU liked Facebook and recognised Mark’s capabilities.

He turned to the other official, though he guessed he was more of a lost cause than even the Winklevii. “Look, are you sure this trip is really necessary? Can my personal presence do anything more than the promotion I already do? We advertise on a lot of sites with high traffic from remote planets.”

“And you’ve reached as many of those people as you’re going to like that. These hostile or uncaring towards our end of the galaxy are unseduced, whereas the kind of more personal public relations we have in mind have the wherewithal to change some of those people’s minds. Not to mention that many don’t even have computers installed. I’m sure this will be a wonderful journey, Mark, part of a new era in every kind of exploration. And I haven’t introduced myself, my name’s Paul Woolt.”

Mark almost made some remark about how “You think I’m the guy to change people’s minds with personal public relations?” but the truth was he’d changed. He could smarm a little now, when he tried. Perhaps Marylin’s words had sown some awareness that reminded him to tuck things out of sight and squeeze other things together to present a bright, shiny front. He felt weird about it, thought sometimes about the days when he used to piss off or alienate half the people he dealt with, not really understanding how and feeling a strange kind of defensive pride in it, like he was more honest and unyielding (and smart) than them. He missed them, kind of, though he wasn’t sure why.

Then he almost commented on how this was a very small party to send on part of such an exciting mission. The number of officials sent anywhere was always very much related to priority and necessity, and the Union erred on the side of economy. There was always an element of danger to long-distance travel. Perhaps that was how the Union got things done; knowing they had to get things right at the right time. He didn’t say that, either – somehow you never liked to let the Union know you actually thought about them at all – and gave a jerky, belated nod.

Paul made small talk with anecdotes of friends and family in relation to Facebook, combining flattery and social management with “Trust me, I’m human” tactics, though the warmth of this seemed to sit oddly on him. Mark felt the usual flare of satisfaction that this kind of conversation could take place, that everyone had something to do with his invention, and then the second flare of nerves that’s been faintly manifesting for a little while now, particularly in the last week. The Winklevosses looked at each other, jaws set, and Mark enjoyed himself a little bit for a few minutes.

The ship was nice, of course, with separate plush rooms for them all well away from the business of making the thing go – not at all like the scuffed old one he’d been on once for a school field trip to one of the moons. Only Paul felt obliged to pretend not to be eager to bolt away at once, and Mark ignored him. His room didn’t have a window, which he almost regretted when he remembered that oh yes, they were taking off the surface of the planet. The field trip had been the only occasion he’d left it before. Then again, the thought of all that space all around him had made him feel kind of queasy that time.

Dinner unfortunately, was to be taken with the others. Paul seemed to radiate an air of personal pride in the meal, so that Mark looked at his plate in puzzlement and asked, “Did you make it?” It seemed unlikely.

“Me? Ah, no, we have domestic staff onboard,” said Paul. Maybe he was relieved his influence was enough to wangle that; taking workers outside the Home System usually involved a hell of a lot of jumping through hoops unless, sometimes, it didn’t. Mark doubted even his billionaire presence would have been enough to guarantee anything.

One of the twins sighed as he stabbed at his meal with his fork.

“So. What have you been doing these days?” asked Mark, in hopes they would feel the full ignominy of their dull, achievementless lives as minor officials.

*

Mark woke in the night. Woke was not quite the right word; he was thrown from his bed onto the floor, then slid down the floor as the ship turned on its side. It righted itself with a grating vibration, and Mark slid back down with a thump. The light was flickering on and off in a way that already made his head ache. He managed to get to his feet, feeling as if the ship was still rocking, though he wasn’t sure it was, and pushed open his door. A form hurtled across his vision in the gloom of the ship’s centre area that revealed itself as two forms when, squinting, he followed it making its way back a little, stumbling and pushing for ground on two pairs of feet. The lights came on and one of the bodies quickly disengaged itself from the other. There was movement on the other side of the room, aiming something, and either Cameron or Tyler Winklevoss fell to the floor in a weird jumping, jerking movement. There was a smell and he’d been electrocuted, Mark realised. Fried.

He realised suddenly that this was happening in the same space as him, it wasn’t a dream, and he needed to hide under his bed or something. He took his sweating hands off the doorframe and slowly moved backwards, but he was seen. At least two people darted towards him and grabbed his arms, dragging him forwards. He made himself go heavy, sinking towards the ground, and tried to kick himself loose as his captors sank with him. Their hands were hard and pinching on his arms, though, and they continued to drag him on his knees. They passed the boiler room, the door now open, and Mark caught sight of someone – a body, he guessed – lying on its stomach on the floor. He tried to comprehend that in moments he would be dead too.

He should try and contact somebody to say goodbye if asking for help was useless.. His mind fumbled up his email, his mother’s address filled in. _Something bad is happening. I love you._ Too morbid and upsetting? He wondered. In his panicked state he wasn’t sure whether he actually sent it or not when he was distracted by the realisation he was facing the ship’s main exit. Thoughts of being pushed and tumbling into space rushed through his mind before seeing the ship seemed to be docked somewhere and there was a gangplank connecting his ship with another. A kidnap situation, Mark decided. Maybe he wouldn’t die just yet. Maybe it was the HSU, after some strange unknown objective.

On the other ship he saw more people with weapons, aiming them at the wall against which a man sat holding his hands over his head. Mark felt that strange shortcut to recognition, that knows a body and its way of holding itself even if met unexpectedly, not needing even the aid of facial recognition. The recognition became conscious when his eyes passed up to Eduardo’s worried face. He probably didn’t pass out right then, but he never remembered Eduardo’s eyes meeting his face.

*

By the time he was fully conscious, Mark wished he wasn’t. He knew a lot had happened to his body before he could begin ascertaining what. There was some obtrusive presence, as if someone had dumped a lot of bulky furniture round a room’s outskirts, making it smaller. When he finally managed to hone in on it, he realised the bulky furniture consisted of feeds relaying information from his body parts, which apparently were no longer quietly getting on with things by themselves so far as his conscious mind was aware. _Cyborg_. His organs had been taken out and replaced with mechanical parts, his genetic code overwritten, smoothing over weakness and rareties to make it generic. Sophisticated chips, like for instance those used with Facebook would be able to tell that something had changed, and no longer recognise him as Mark Zuckerberg, the particular Mark Zuckerberg that he was. The other information – whatever remained true – would be there; so many people liked to claim nothing could erase the themness of them, but it was a highly variable, hardly verifiable minefield. And in legal terms all anyone would come up with was CYBORG, unless, if his relatives and friends swore they knew him, he would be provided with a chip identifying him as CYBORG, formerly known as Mark Zuckerberg. It seemed like there ought to be some pithy comment in response to the invention of Facebook in there somewhere if he could be bothered to look for it. That must be what it was all about.

Mark had been awake for quite a while before it seemed he could no longer put off opening his eyes. He could see the ceiling a long way above him, and he put out a hand to feel whether he was lying on the floor. He seemed to be on a mattress, and fuck, it felt like every part of him, not just his organs, was machinery he had to consciously interact with. His hand’s progress seemed an infuriatingly slow procession of increments, the sensory information it received passing back and forth several times before retrieving the corresponding information. The mattress shifted beneath him, and Mark shifted his gaze to find someone was sitting at the end of it and had turned to look at him. Last night there’d been someone he knew and hadn’t expected to see, was this him, did he know -- His mind clicked after a frustrating moment of stuttering.

“What the fuck” his voice managed to grate out.

“Hey. Are you okay? Ish.” Eduardo asked.

Mark bypassed the question. “What are you _doing_ here?”

Eduardo shrugged before letting his shoulders sag. “By massive coincidence the ship I was travelling on was the one they hijacked and used to run yours down. They killed the other passengers. I’m here because my chip says I’m a co-founder of Facebook.”

Mark tried to work out if he was indirectly responsible for saving or endangering Eduardo’s life, or at least which he’d tipped the balance on most, but tracing the ironic vagaries of fate proved too exhausting.

“So what do they want you for?”

“They were going to do it to me too –” he waved a hand at Mark’s battered, confused body. “But the surgeon said she was bored. So I don’t know if I’ve got that coming or if we’re both going to be gruesomely killed to send a message.”

Mark was not enjoying the turn conversation was taking and glared at Eduardo resentfully. “Send what message? Was it the HSU? Do they want to run Faceboook themselves – or wait, I guess they wouldn’t care about making a point about the cyborg thing.”

“I don’t think it’s the Union. Even apart from them killing the officials on your ship – they did, didn’t they? – some of them seem like they come from planets the Union wants to control more. There’s a couple of languages I didn’t recognise at all and there were only a few people who could interpret them for the others.”

“So there are rebels who actually managed to do something,” Mark said thoughtfully. “It seems quite a small thing, though ... Eduardo! I can’t go online. I can’t feel anything.” He panicked, tried to sit up, put a hand to his head.

“Yeah, I think they put something in it and blocked your receivers,” said Eduardo.

“Did they do it all in front of you?” asked Mark, imagining lots of gore and people reaching in and rearranging him.

“No, they put me in here and did it out there. I tried to listen sometimes, though. I wasn’t sure what they were doing.” He looked morose and traumatised, and cautiously ran his eyes over Mark. Maybe Eduardo hadn’t expected him to wake up, at least not as himself. “They think the Union uses Facebook to track people down, and that they want to do it more, and people actually in the Home System don’t know half of what they do. They think you’re actually quite a big thing to attack. They took your identity chip, and the chips the officials travelling with you had, so they can probably pretend nothing’s happened for a while. And they took both our credit cards, so it’s not really like they need to ask for ransom. I emailed people, of course, but I don’t know where we are and I don’t think it’s going to be much good.”

Mark closed his eyes. “Great. So everything’s looking as bad as it possibly could.”

“I’m sorry,” said Eduardo after a moment. After another pause: “I guess it doesn’t make much sense to do that to you if you’re not going to have to live with it. I don’t think so, anyway. They want to send a _message_.”

“Maybe,” said Mark. “They can probably do a lot with those chips. They can get them into places.” Who knew what they might do to Facebook. He wasn’t sure the thought worried him as much as it ought, wondered whether this was the cyborg intruding into his real self. Perhaps it was because this was a hazard of having pushed something all the way. The anxiety for it to get there, and the uncertainty whether it would, was gone. Beginning, perhaps, to be replaced by unease about where it was going. Maybe Facebook had been, from the beginning, a misbegotten fuck-up.

“Did you know they made the Winklevosses go with me?”

“And they’re dead?” asked Eduardo, startled. “Someone had to plan that, right? That’s just too much, that we all get caught up in it.”

Mark felt truly sorry for the first time that Eduardo was in here with him, dragged in on the tail of whatever shitstorm Mark had steered himself into. But what could he do about it? He closed his eyes again. Eduardo seemed inclined to leave some space between them, because it was a while before he shuffled up the bed to lie next to Mark. Dreams were already tugging Mark into a light, uneasy sleep, so he didn’t know if Eduardo slept too.

He woke up at the touch of a woman’s hands on him, feeling exhausted by the procession of desperate struggles and escapes and everything being all his fault, and being the most unfortunate person in the world.

“He’s doing fine!” she yelled through the open door. Mark saw Eduardo sit up and look at the open door. A couple of armed people moved meaningfully closer to the door. “I guess we should feed him.”

The people with weapons came forward and one said “Bathroom visit?” They escorted first Eduardo, then Mark to the bathroom, and Mark returned to find the woman who’d butchered him bringing in food and water.

“How much shall we give them?” she asked.

“Do we need to feed the co-founder?” asked a rebel, dubiously eyeing Eduardo.

“Oh come on,” said Mark. “It’s not like you’re short of money right now.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Eduardo said hurriedly.

Someone went to fetch more, saying when they returned, “We are far kinder kidnappers than you deserve.”

Mark glared at them, waiting until they locked them in again to take a drink of water. “They’re probably only here because they’re pretentious and want to play a role,” he said.

“Some of them, I guess. Like I said, some of them come from further away. They certainly think they’ve got something to worry about,” said Eduardo. There was a pause filled with eating, with progressed with more ease and gusto on Eduardo’s part. “Maybe this is a bad question,” began Eduardo. “But do you think you’re still you? Do you feel right in yourself?”

“I feel like shit in myself. Everything that was right before is wrong. And I’ve never been kidnapped before, so what am I judging against? I’m not _aware_ of any meaningful personality changes, no.”

“Okay. That’s great. Uh, not being sarcastic. Probably.”

That made Mark remember that Eduardo wasn’t just someone he knew, which was, really, quite a lot of mental relief to have right now, but someone he had a lot of weird, kind of upsetting stuff in the past with. He’d never thought he’d meet Eduardo again. If there was an after this, Eduardo would surely most importantly be the person he was kidnapped with, not that one ex-friend. It’s weird to be making new history with him.

He’d stopped eating, because eating seemed like strenuous mental exercise right now and doing other things in his head apparently crowded it out. Hadn’t people originally done this to improve and enhance functionality? Mark had to believe this got better.

When he’d finished eating Mark propped himself against the wall and gazed at Eduardo, who was in his line of sight. Eduardo met his gaze as if conscientiously trying to discern a message in it before making a “What?” gesture. So they talked of banalities for several hours, including covering the ground of Eduardo’s job in far more exhaustive detail than either really cared for. It might not have been thrilling, and being online would have been nice, but Mark had to admit it was amazing what a blessing the presence of another human he could talk to was. The hours may have been indifferent, but they were eaten without too much pain.

Mark was suddenly conscious of a noise and narrowed his eyes in concentration. “Is that just me or-”

“No – we’re starting up,” said Eduardo. The much more aggressive grinding noise and shuddering that followed left no doubt. He looked toward the door. “I wish I knew what was _happening_.”

“Has anything happened yet at home?” asked Mark. Eduardo had been periodically checking up on things, which Mark couldn’t help feeling galled by; having to rely on Eduardo rather than see things for himself. Considering the lack of exact information Eduardo was able to provide, it was unlikely anything would have come of it even if they had a would-be rescuer with authority to leave the planet. This authority was denied by the HSU, who had heard from Woolt and the Winklevosses that they were all perfectly safe and on schedule, though Zuckerberg was being highly rebellious and difficult. They couldn’t quite explain why they were hearing from Eduardo Saverin, who shouldn’t have had anything to do with anything according to this version of events but perhaps, they suggested, that factor was somehow faked, or previously arranged. Someone brave and stupid had devoted part of Facebook’s front page to a notice about their plight. _To be abandoned to their fate, apparently, because you don’t even care enough to find out the truth about what happened to your own officials_ , it ended uncheerfully. Mark wondered who it was. Maybe Dustin.

“Weird to have Facebook claim me all of a sudden,” said Eduardo.

“It’s still there?” said Mark. “It’s weird to think of us being so defiant. It’s kind of good to think about. But –”

“I hope no one gets hurt,” said Eduardo.

“Yeah.” As if he didn’t have enough to worry about here.

“Dustin says they’ve put out a status from “you”. ‘Mark Zuckerberg thinks it’s good to know how much the Union really cares about him.’”

“Fuck them.”

“So that contradicts what I said about you being offline. And if you really were online and kidnapped and desperate for the HSU to help that’s probably not what you’d say. Probably.”

“Maybe you should comment on it,” said Mark, though knowing all communicative efforts were useless.

There was a pause as Eduardo probably made his way to Facebook, his lip between his teeth. Then there was a “Fuck! _Fuck_ ,” and Eduardo clapped his hands over his eyes.

“Do your eyes hurt?” asked Mark.

Eduardo shook his head but Mark wasn’t sure if it was in response to his question. His face calmed for a moment, then screwed up again. “I think it’s everywhere, all over the net.

“ _What_?” asked Mark, wishing like crazy he was online.

“This film of people being driven back and screaming and falling over. I didn’t look very closely but I think people were dying.”

“If I was safe at home I might be kind of glad this was happening. Just to know it was possible to go against them, even though I’m sure it’s all going to be very short-lived. But...”

“Yeah, I know, who wants to fucking end up in the middle.”

“I don’t think the HSU would think I would do that,” said Mark. They might not see it as such, Mark didn’t know how their minds worked, but they’d have to underestimate his self-absorption by some degree. “If they’ve got any perception. I mean, I didn’t. So that might help us make them realise this is for real. Try the other version.”

Eduardo hesitated. “I’m not enjoying watching things happen to other people. I already had it today with the other passengers. It – it doesn’t make me feel good.”

“Something will probably happen to you in a while, if it makes you feel better.” Eduardo looked distracted, probably checking the non-Facebook version of the net. “Of course, I don’t _want_ something to happen to you,” added Mark, an unpleasant feeling in his body or head or whatever suggesting you could go too far, and facing facts before they faced you didn’t always help.

“It just went,” said Eduardo, looking puzzled. “I can’t get anywhere.” Outside, someone asked something anxiously, and was met with groans. “The Facebook version’s not coming up either.”

“So either they—” Mark jerked his head towards the door “—managed to fuck up the whole thing altogether, or the HSU did something.”

“And now we’re stuck. We can’t speak to anyone.”

“ _No one_ can speak to anyone,” said Mark. The idea was so strange. If it felt unnaturally deadened not to have access to the net himself, the feeling was intensified by the knowledge it was the same for everyone else, that for all intents and purposes the net did not exist. Eduardo was looking about him as if to demonstrate that there was nowhere for them to turn to. “Even if we got tracked down, the Union would probably blow us all up,” he said, trying to find a silver lining.

“I liked being able to _talk_ to people,” said Eduardo, sounding bereft, and well yes, it was nice to know people were there and feeling anxious about you. Eduardo fell across the mattress, his legs trailing on the floor, his arm over his eyes. He sighed. Talk was desultory after that. Mark knew they should have an ear to the door, to try and pick out sense and concrete warnings from the mixed hum only occasionally rising into snatched words and phrases to reach the mattress. Somehow they couldn’t be bothered.

Mark imagined they’d be kept waiting for another care and feeding of hostages visit, but it came sooner than he anticipated. The rebels seemed anxious, and perhaps somewhat glad to have their minds distracted from the current state of affairs.

“If we just _ask_ what’s going to happen, you’re not going to tell us, are you?” asked Eduardo.

One of the rebels laughed. “We don’t know. We’re only one part of our group, and now we’ve lost touch with the others. We’ve followed our part of the plan as far as it went, except it went a little bit further.” She beamed at them, safe in the knowledge she hadn’t reassured them at all.

“So there’s other stuff going on somewhere else,” said Mark after they left. They wondered for a while what the rest of the plan might be, but it got them nowhere.

“If they land somewhere we can try and convince them to let us go. I don’t really see why they’d want to be bothered with us,” said Eduardo.

“That’s true. Though they could go on almost indefinitely without stopping anywhere besides stations.”

“Even a station would be something.”

As scenarios played out in Mark’s head, he realised how unused he’d grown to being without the ease, the freedom of wealth, for all he’d thought he was hardly used to it and that it didn’t really affect him.

“I’m tired,” Eduardo said. “I wish we could turn out the light, and we had a blanket.” He lay down anyway. Mark thought he might as well try to sleep too, but now Eduardo had drawn attention to what they lacked, he felt uncomfortable. He tried to focus on the faint warmth Eduardo gave off next to him, and the slow regularity of his breath.

He slept for enough hours that when he woke up he decided he would call it the next day. Eduardo was still asleep, his face turned towards Mark and pressed into the mattress. Mark tried not to shift around too much, but perhaps he was breathing too loudly or something because Eduardo woke up anyway.

It was almost a worse day than that previous, now that the distraction of shock and assessing their situation was wearing off. There was only the boredom and stretched-outness of hoping and expecting and fearing something would happen. Another day, or what seemed like it, and he and Eduardo moved on to the almost better territory of telling each other how much they wanted to walk around outside, or take a shower. It was becoming more apparent to Mark that he and Eduardo _knew_ each other, the feeling of familiarity a great comfort at this time, and it was weird because he wasn’t used to thinking of Eduardo like that now.

Not long after Mark contemplated this, Eduardo said, “If we’re here too long we’ll have to fall back on fighting about you know, Facebook.” He laughed to himself. Mark winced away from the topic internally, and said nothing in reply.

And then he was very confused, because he was asleep, then rudely awoken by what seemed a re-enactment of the night of his kidnap. The ship jarred violently, though at least this time he was not thrown from his bed; the mattress merely slid. He felt Eduardo’s hands on him holding him in place and stopping him from falling on top of him. His hands became too hard, and Mark cried out as Eduardo half fell across him when the ship rolled back.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” Eduardo murmured in his ear. Mark took a moment to feel glad about his progress when he realised he’d nodded without thinking about it. He looked towards the door. There was a loud bang, that sounded like entry being forced.

“Stand back!” someone yelled, followed by another loud metallic clatter, as if maybe a door was being struggled with and thrown back against the wall.

“Is it the HSU?” Eduardo wondered. Mark wondered if he even wanted it to be. What he most wanted was to be safe in his own bedroom, able to crawl into his own bed. It wasn’t like the Union turning up was any guarantee he’d have that any time soon.

There were all sorts of sounds now. It sounded almost like there was a battle going on out there, but there wasn’t much indication as to the identity of the party just arrived. Some of the yells indicated they knew who each other were, but they weren’t conducting themselves in consideration of an audience. Although the HSU seemed like the obvious thing to fill in the blank, Mark wasn’t quite getting HSU vibes.

“If it was them, wouldn’t they be _done_ with it by now?” Eduardo voiced Mark’s thoughts. Maybe they were naive and overly impressed by the Union’s own publicity, but Mark couldn’t help seeing them as winning fights quickly.

“I’m getting sick of staring at the door,” Mark said. Not that it was possible to lie down and relax. Mark felt the urge both to angrily call out and demand what was happening, and to pull the covers they didn’t have over his head.

“Maybe we should say something,” said Eduardo. “What if everyone’s killed or something? I’d rather be killed too than stay locked in here until we die.”

This was a good point. They both stared at the door some more. There was a snarling sound, followed by dragging, which seemed particularly decisive somehow. Mark’s nerves and patience ran out and he yelled “Hey!” without quite deciding it was a good idea.

Mark heard a sharp “Who’s out there?” and a mumble about “our hostages.” Nothing followed immediately, prompting Eduardo to turn towards Mark and hiss, “Are they just _leaving_ us?” For better or worse, a key sounded in the lock the next moment. One of “their” rebels, appeared, aiming a weapon vaguely in their direction but obviously not particularly concerned about threat posed by them, while behind them was someone new, aiming a weapon much more pointedly at their neck.

“Get them out here,” said the new person.

Outside was a mess of clumps of people, the original kidnappers and the new arrivals mixed together, several people being sat on and otherwise clutched at, with or without the addition threat of weaponry to hold them there. Mark looked around but could place no discernible victorious group. One of the new people pointed at him and Eduardo in a demanding kind of way, but was pre-empted by one of the rebels standing up and saying something in a decisive tone.

“Yes!” said another rebel, who could interpret the lesser-known languages. “We’re taking your ship!” The rebels all began getting themselves and their hostages together and towards the door.

The new people looked baffled for a moment. They looked at the hostages they had taken from the rebels in a “Don’t you want this?” kind of way. The hostages looked unhappy and confused.

“Yeah, nice try. We’re taking our ship and _you_ ,” said someone, barging past the rebels still onboard, dragging a hostage in his wake.

Mark watched them all leave, his brow furrowed. One of the last rebels ran to fetch a bundle of things. Mark saw the surgical implements in there. Probably the chips and credit cards were in there too. He almost stepped forward and begged for them, but Eduardo put a hand on his arm. All the rebels had gone now, and only two people remained. They looked after the rebels, who’d been happy to vacate the ship without holding onto Mark and Eduardo as collateral, then at Mark and Eduardo, and – Mark held his breath as he silently begged them to decide that they probably didn’t want them either.

They were leaving. They were gone. They were fucking gone, the gangplank removed and the door shut behind them, and he and Eduardo were alone in the ship.

Eduardo sank to sit on the floor, laughing breathlessly. “Wow, what the fuck was that?”

“They kidnapped each other!”

“How is that even going to work? Sooner or later they’ll have to fight it out, it’s inevitable. The other ship is still there, right? I’m not going to feel right until I hear it take off.”

“They’ll have to figure out who’s flying it,” said Mark. “It could take a while.”

“I guess we have to figure out how to fly _this_ ,” said Eduardo. “It’s not the kind of thing you know about, is it?”

“Not really. I’ll have to see what I can make of it. I hope it’s not broken.”

“Oh. So we might still be fucked. I guess at least we’ll probably get to sleep in the comfortable beds before we sink into oblivion.”

“Quiet. They’re going.” The sound of a ship very near by taking off was unmistakeable.

Mark went to poke at the ship’s computers. Finding out what the ship was doing right now wasn’t so hard – though he wished Eduardo wouldn’t hover about and ask questions; he was only going to get snapped at – but working out what he was supposed to do with it now wasn’t quite the same thing.

“Okay,” he said at the end. “We’re nearly out of the Home System. The nearest planet is Anniwir. I’m not sure how badly damaged the ship is but it’s definitely not quite right, so we’re going to need to land as soon as possible. _If_ I can get it going at all.”

“And then we decide what we do next,” said Eduardo softly.

“Yeah. It’s not so bad for you, you’ve been here there and everywhere. Your career isn’t tied up with something the HSU want to get their hands all over, _and_ has just pissed them off. How am I supposed to know if I want to go back? Maybe I’d be arrested as soon as I landed, and can I find out how the land lies at all? No.”

“And then there’s the whole thing with how the Union’s using Facebook,” Eduardo said in a questioning kind of way.

“ _Yes_ , Wardo, I haven’t forgotten.” He felt angry resentment that Eduardo was suggesting he ought in all decency to run away from what he’d made. Particularly resentful because he was running out of reasons why he shouldn’t. Everything had gone to shit. “I’m going to see if we can actually get out of here now.”

Eduardo balled his fists and turned his head away as if he wasn’t going to watch, but turned back. The deeply reassuring revving up sound began, and Mark let himself relax.

“Next stop, Anniwir,” said Eduardo. “It’s so weird to have a whole ship to ourselves.”

“I wish we could just fly on. Our problems will just start again as soon as we get there.”

Eduardo smiled a little. “I both really like that idea and really _don’t_. Anyway,” he said abruptly, “Maybe you’ll be able to get a chip, if they let me vouch for you. It depends what’s been going on; it could make things easier or harder than usual.”

“It would only be a ‘formerly known as...’ chip,” said Mark, folding his arms and feeling moody.

“I’m sorry,” Eduardo said. “You don’t feel like it _means_ something though, do you? It doesn’t seem like you.”

“That would be really reassuring if I thought it did.” Mark paused to try and really assess himself. “I definitely feel like me. Though a lot of cyborgs _do_ have diffused identities.”

“You’re not like those other cyborgs. Got it. You’re sure you’re okay? Physically and everything?”

“Getting there.”

They went and washed, and ate things, because they could. After that it was very comfortable to lounge around and luxuriate in the temporary feeling of respite from outside pressures.

“I still feel sort of confined,” said Eduardo. “I think it’s just because I’m not online. I’m stuck in my own head, it’s weird. Does it bother you?”

“Not so much,” Mark said, a little surprised. “I guess I was distracted because my head didn’t feel right anyway, and now I’ve stopped expecting it to be there.”

They had a look at the other bedrooms. There was a body in one of them, on the floor half under the bed, and they backed out quickly. It was a weird moment when they remembered they weren’t looking for a room for themselves as a unit, that that was just a shut-up-together thing. That idea of himself as part of a unit suddenly creeped Mark out quite violently and made him want to get away. It was like not even Eduardo but _something_ , a feeling he didn’t recognise but knew from somewhere anyway, was much too close. When they got to Anniwir Mark would pull himself together.

And then they realised that both of them couldn’t go to bed anyway, but should take turns making sure the ship was ticking over, and hopefully not have to make drastic decisions. Mark went to sit and look at the area traffic. Eduardo wandered in after him and sat in the chair opposite. They didn’t really talk, and Eduardo rested his eyes for longer and longer periods before falling properly asleep. Mark looked at his face for a long time without thinking of anything.

When it was his turn to sleep, he went to one of the bedrooms, wanting to sink into the cool fabric of the bedclothes and be alone, nobody always either looking at him or potentially looking at him. He had some misgivings; he thought it possible they might arrive at their destination before he awoke naturally, and trying to land would be tricky.

“Wake me up if anything does _anything_ ,” he told Eduardo.

Some time later Eduardo was saying “Mark. _Mark_ ,” into his ear.

“Mmm,” said Mark, wondering foggily what Eduardo was doing here.

“ _Mark_ ,” said Eduardo, still not shaking him. “The ship’s dropping, can you hear me? We’re going to break through the atmosphere soon and I have no idea what will happen after that.”

“We’ll probably die,” said Mark, swinging his legs out of bed, having recalled the whole sorry saga. The ship didn’t sound right, he could tell that right away; there seemed to be a low whine undercutting the usual hum.

Looking at the screens, he said, “We’ll be lucky if we even get to crash on Anniwir. There should surely be some way to send distress signals, but I never found anything...”

“They disabled it,” said Eduardo. “When they came onboard, someone ran in here.”

Mark nodded absently. He found a way of putting the ship on a slower mode, which seemed to make it less distressed. On the one hand it made it less likely the thing would just die before they made it, on the other they had to hope they were near enough that the reduced power didn’t mean it died before they had time to get there.

“And now we wait,” said Eduardo bitterly. He looked at Mark. “Are you scared?”

“I guess. Everything’s been pretty scary, the last few days. At least there’s a definite end in sight here.”

“I hope we don’t die,” said Eduardo.

“Me too. I’m sure if you’d thought about it I’d be one of the last people you wanted to be the last person you saw.”

Eduardo laughed in a startled kind of way and looked as if he was going to say something. He didn’t. Mark thought about asking him what he was going to say, but the moment passed.

It was a long, awkward and horrible wait, and Mark was glad when the time came again for panic and action. Down as smoothly as possible; they couldn’t worry about things like where to. That would just have to sort itself out. The ship was shaking as if it was going to shudder apart at the seams.

“It’s probably going to just burst open on impact,” Mark yelled at Eduardo over the noise, his teeth vibrating. They were both kneeling on the floor, instinctively feeling safer there.

“Mark? Mark?” Eduardo shouted back. Then the ship gave up all pretence it wasn’t just falling, and Mark flung himself down flat and hung onto Eduardo’s ankle and a metal chair leg, which was welded to the floor. He tucked his face into the side of his arm, so it couldn’t get smashed directly into the floor. There was a loud crunch, followed by several more, amid clatters.

“We seem not to be moving anymore.” Eduardo’s voice, muffled.

Cautiously, Mark let go of Eduardo’s ankle and the chair leg. He wasn’t even sure which way up they were now, and at least two of the walls were crumpled. But there was the door, though now they had to climb through it. The ceiling of the passageway outside was ripped and a slice of sunlight showed through. A chunk of metal fell down, glancing across Eduardo’s shoulder. A line of blood began to bloom across his shirt.

“You’ve hurt yourself,” said Mark.

Eduardo ignored him and pressed on. The roof had fallen in on the centre of the ship, and they had to skirt gingerly round the edges, avoiding more shards of metal. The door looked warped, and when Eduardo pressed the button there was a moment when nothing happened, but it relented enough to slide halfway open. They squeezed out and stood on paved ground, eyes screwed up against the sunlight.

“We’re on solid ground. At least we’ve got that one under our belts,” said Eduardo, looking back at Mark and smiling.

"So now where are we?" asked Mark. They were in a sidestreet. People passing the end of it shot them curious looks, but seemed in a hurry.

Eduardo headed in their direction, turning as he walked to peer in all directions. "Lilgeas!" he said triumphantly, pointing.

Mark turned to see the distinctive blue stone and towers built in an undulating shape with a drooping crest at the top of the capital city of what was probably Anniwir's second most country. The first most important, of course, was where ships were actually supposed to arrive and leave from.

Once they emerged out into the main street it seemed obvious that most of the people were somewhere else, and almost everyone they did see was headed the same way.

"Let's see where they're going," said Eduardo.

There was the strange quiet roar of many people round a few corners, and something else, some kind of broadcast. They didn't have long to go before they'd come as far as they could, at the top of some steps leading down to a large square, blocked by a dense crowd. There was a screen set up, showing ships in space, whole banks of them stationary, a traffic jam essentially.

It took a while for Mark to tune into the language of the voiceover.

"Many families hoping for the safe return of these travellers, and many more who landed but are now not permitted to leave the docking stations, have no idea how long they may have to wait."

The screen changed to show a face Mark recognized and Eduardo turned to share his own recognition; one of their kidnappers.

"The Home System will soon find that they must stay at home. They will not be allowed past, in or out, it is as simple as that. This important step will soon be completely achieved."

People sitting in a studio, now. It occurred to Mark that normally many of these people would have been watching this in their houses, in their own heads. "What many are finding hard to believe is that such a determined organization, with the power, some suggest, to back up their threats, could have appeared so suddenly from nothing."

"It all depends on your perspective. That's the mainstream view of the situation, certainly. However, some claim this situation has been brewing for a while now. While most see the rise of Facebook and the Facebook-dominated net as facilitating the HSU, the irony is that this left the more unfashionable version of the net to its own devices, no longer monitored so closely, enabling malcontents to voice their arguments with impunity, and meet and plan with others."

Mark felt strange. "It looks like we're stuck here, then," he said. "We might as well go our separate ways now. We only met by accident, we wouldn't ..."

Eduardo closed his eyes briefly. "What?" he said, turning to face Mark full on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Mark and Eduardo being angsty in a spaceship together.

“No. You know what? Fuck you.” Eduardo sounded both like the words were hard to say, and like they intoxicated him, like he had after he found out about the dilution. He looked at Mark, a quick up and down look, and walked away.

Mark thought maybe he’d let that be it, and looked at the screen. His attention didn’t settle on it, and he quickly whisked around to see Eduardo sliding through the crowd that had accumulated behind them, in and out of sight. He felt instinctive panic at the thought of watching the only person he knew on the planet disappear – maybe the last person he knew he’d ever see again – and after another moment of hesitation, lurching on his feet, he made after Eduardo. He thought he’d lost him for a moment, and felt a pang of disbelief that he’d done this thing to himself he didn’t actually want; what was wrong with him? He scoured around him for a moment, tipping forward onto the balls of his feet, and rushed into the mouth of one of about five streets opening onto the square. He couldn’t see Eduardo in it, though maybe he could be round a corner by now. He made his way to another direction he could have taken, a cold certainty that it was too late, it was done, settling upon his chest.

But there was Eduardo, quite a way down, hurrying along with his head down. Mark ran full tilt after him, only to come back to himself when he lightly touched Eduardo’s back.

Eduardo swung around. “So you’ve come running after me, Mark. I think it’s too late.”

“I don’t really want to be left by myself. I don’t know why I said that.”

“I’d rather be by _my_ self that with you. They knew what they were doing when they decided you’d make a good cyborg. There really isn’t much human about you.”

That hurt, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten plenty of cyborg cracks even before it actually happened. “There you go, it’s a weird time for me, erratic behaviour is to be expected,” he argued.

“It’s not just _now_ , Mark,” Eduardo cried, holding his arms out wide in a gesture of despairing impatience. “I was only letting the rest go because we were kidnapped and you were in a vulnerable state and there were more important things to worry about. It’s interesting that when we might have been going to die, did it occur to you to resolve the only thing you could, conveniently being kidnapped with someone you were a massive dick to, and throw some kind of _sorry_ my way? No!”

Mark had that foolish, slightly shocked, angry feeling he got when he realised that, indeed, it had never occurred to him to fulfil someone’s expectations, and admitted on at least some level that maybe it should have done.

“It would have – I’d have been glad, even then, if you’d done it. But you didn’t. And you don’t even care enough to stick together in a time like this. You’re _never_ going to be the person I want you to be. I don’t know why I keep expecting it. But I’m done.” And Eduardo, giving Mark one last moment to see the half slightly sad, half slightly unbalanced glitter in his eyes, turned again and walked on, back straight, not even hurrying now.

Mark stood where he’d been left, numbly racking his brain for something to make Eduardo change his mind. He couldn’t think of anything. It wasn’t likely he ever was going to be the person Eduardo wanted him to be, going on his past record. Mark’s mental and Eduardo’s physical progress was halted by an out of place sound. They both looked around, trying to locate it, but hadn’t got round to looking up before a shadow fell and they instinctively ran to the other side of the road, away from it. Eduardo threw a glance over his shoulder to ascertain Mark’s whereabouts as he did so. A ship came to rest in the street, not at all like theirs had done, but a deliberate landing, wiggling a little as it lowered itself into the relatively narrow space. There were more people milling around now; Mark guessed the more people knew what was happening, the more they had to say and do about it. He edged up behind Eduardo so that people couldn’t get between them. Eduardo took a step away, ready to see what was happening but also ready to walk on. Mark took half a step too, so that he was basically breathing down Eduardo’s neck and feeling stupid, unsure whether he wanted Eduardo to notice or not.

The door flew open and a line of people filed out, looking pleased with themselves and far more sure that they’d done what they’d meant to do than Mark and Eduardo had. It seemed like the whole crew were hopping out, pushing their way through the crows, faces smug, turning to address each other but ignoring any questions shouted out to them.

Eduardo lost interest and moved on. So this was the moment. Never mind anything he’d done with Facebook, with or without Eduardo, never mind even that this _was_ Eduardo. Was he going to care, and successfully do something about it, or not? His eyes rested on the door to the ship, hanging open showing the empty interior. Mark’s body jumped very suddenly into action, surging forwards and grabbing Eduardo, so suddenly that it jarred himself badly. He was hardly aware of the next few seconds; it felt as though he was compelled up into his mind to anxiously peer around and make sure everything was okay – he still didn’t trust his body and mind to work together.

He’d managed to propel themselves both onto the metal steps up to the door. Eduardo cried out as his legs slammed into them and Mark trod on him and lost both his footing and his grasp on Eduardo. He took hold of Eduardo again, who was preoccupied with falling with his head sideways to avoid dashing his teeth out, twisted his arms behind his back and helpfully jerked him up and away from the steps. He caught sight of someone’s astonished face, watching their flailing. It changed to show a more definite feeling that Mark shouldn’t be doing what he was doing, and an incipient desire to stop him, when Mark pushed Eduardo against the doorframe, awkwardly squeezing past him, and nearly knocked them both over again with the momentum when he pulled him to his chest. They toppled far enough in to enable him to kick the door to, and he let Eduardo go to lunge to lock it.

There was a thump and a shout at the side of the ship. Mark wished to make his getaway, but he felt doubtful of his ability to drag Eduardo to the control room and hold him clamped in a headlock while he started the ship back up, nor yet was he willing to leave him by the door he would surely escape through as soon as Mark turned his back. He attempted the first option anyway, but Eduardo fought back properly now and they staggered about pushing at the other as if they were playing some kind of game that depended on feet going over a line on the floor. Eduardo laughed under his breath and obviously it _was_ all ridiculous. Mark felt tired all of a sudden and let go of Eduardo. The feeling that this was a vital moment, a turning point, drained out of him, or at least the feeling that he had to push through and see what happened drained out of him. It seemed like it would be stupid not to take this option to try and get away, be at a loose end properly. Did it really matter what direction things took now? He left Eduardo and went to start the ship. It was different to the last ship, and it took him a while to work out what he was doing.

If Eduardo hadn’t already left, this was his last chance to do so. Unless he wanted to suicidally fling himself towards ground to avoid Mark, of course. So that was done. He remained standing in the same position, trying to arrange himself mentally so he wouldn’t be expecting to go back out and find Eduardo there. He would spend the rest of his life lying low. It would be alright because he could probably manage not to care too much. He’d say it was a convenient coincidence that he’d gotten cyborg status at a time when he wasn’t so keen on being Mark Zuckerberg anymore anyway, if it wasn’t all connected.

It was ridiculous for someone to avoid a person who wasn’t there, and would only make it worse when the absence could no longer be avoided. Mark wandered out, making sure his gaze was casual, not searching, as it hit the area where he’d left Eduardo. He froze when he met Eduardo’s direct ones. Eduardo was sitting on one of the crates of Toloskian wine that crowded the ship – obviously the ship’s business had been importation, and it was probably unwise of the crew to abandon it – raising a bottle of the wine to his lips. He looked quite cheerful, all things considered, his face showing a kind of resigned amusement. Mark didn’t know what to do.

“Have a drink,” suggested Eduardo, waving at the crate he’d opened. A kind suggestion, because Mark could pretend to particularly occupied with opening the bottle, his mouth set in concentration, as Eduardo went on, “You’re an awful person, you really are. Just a terrible person. I have no idea what I could have seen in you. How transparent can you get, that you want to get away from someone, until they’re willing to part from you, at which point you kidnap them? Anything to make sure other people know you come out on top, you can do what you want, your will is law, what other people might feel about anything doesn’t matter at all.” He looked a little less composed now, but put himself back together while Mark tried to make up his mind whether to say anything back.

“You could have got out. I didn’t kidnap you, maybe you’re not here because you decided to be, but you could have decided not to be here, and you didn’t.” Mark felt the accusation of kidnapping peculiarly keenly after the events of the last few days. “And I wasn’t thinking like you’re telling me I was. I just changed my mind. I said something without really thinking it through, and then I realised it – wasn’t really what I wanted.” It was worse to admit to wanting to hang on to the company of this Eduardo, reawakened to his issues with Mark and resentment of his flaws, than that of the co-hostage camaraderie Eduardo. Though apparently the latter was just bitter Eduardo biding his time.

“My pragmatism overcame my huge problems with you. We’re no longer completely penniless and without resources. We can sell the wine, or even the ship, I guess.”

This was a point, and not one Mark had got to yet. Maybe Eduardo really wasn’t here because of anything to do with Mark. Mark felt quite alone. And awkward and at a loss for what to do with himself. Now, like never before, he regretted the net. He could have slipped so easily out of the bonds of this conversation. Though the conversation seemed to have died. Eduardo seemed weirdly content to sit and look at Mark as if challenging him to do something interesting. Mark didn’t let his composure be ruffled by that kind of thing, so he sank down on a crate and aimed his blank, hard look across the way.

Eduardo didn’t let himself be drawn into a staring match. He gave Mark a knowing, slightly contemptuously amused look, and continued looking at him only because he was in his line of sight. Then he rolled up his trouser legs to look at his grazed shins, strips of skin rolled up into greyish scrolls, and tugged uncomfortably at his shirt where apparently it was beginning to stick to the bloody scratch on his shoulder. He sucked his breath in and peered at it; it seemed to be bleeding again. After hesitating, Eduardo took his shirt off so it wouldn’t stick to the cut again. Mark looked at the cut to make sure it wasn’t like terrible or anything, and reminded himself that he was still much more “wounded” right now.

“I don’t want to do some weird brooding ignoring thing with you,” Eduardo said. “I don’t _have_ to. I think I’d seriously finally gotten over you right before you stuffed me in here. You’re just a person, okay? We hardly know each other and we don’t really want to change that. We can talk to each other within that.”

“Right,” said Mark. That sounded fine. Eduardo was there, that was the main thing. “I don’t know where we’re going,” he ventured after a few moments.

“It doesn’t matter that much,” said Eduardo.

They ended up talking about how they didn’t even know if they wanted the Union to go under or what. On the one hand, the HSU was hard to genuinely _like_ , and on the other, it was what they knew, and everything and everyone else they knew and loved would probably be hurt in the shuffle.

“It’s the kind of thing you’re okay with your grandparents or your grandchildren dealing with,” said Mark. He didn’t feel like he was talking to someone he hardly knew, rather than the usual Eduardo. Though it wasn’t really as if he had a usual Eduardo at this point. He looked at Eduardo, lean and half-clothed, leaning his elbows on his knees, face distant and doleful, and felt... strange. Things should be better for Eduardo, he felt suddenly, though he had no idea how this should be so, or, really, why it should be, when it was looking about as awkward for everyone else right now.

*

Mark thought they should land at the next opportunity, to get the news. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ the news, but it seemed stupid to venture forth more uninformed than necessary. He didn’t really want the next place to seem like a good place for Eduardo, or even him too, to stay for the duration. His vision of how he wanted the future to look was alarmingly blank, and Mark was becoming impatient with himself. As it turned out, when they got within signalling distance of the moons and stations orbiting the next nearest planet, a message popped up on a screen they hadn’t paid much attention to before. DO NOT APPROACH. HOSTILE ENVIRONMENT.

“Maybe they’re just scared and are trying to warn anyone away from them,” said Mark, still hovering as if ready to enter orbit, though he didn’t mind taking the excuse to pass on. He looked at Eduardo, who shrugged, which was somehow unsatisfactory.

It wasn’t long before they received an elaboration. EXPERIENCING TAKEOVER ATTEMPT. ATTEMPT CURRENTLY SUCCESSFUL.

“I guess we’ll move on,” Mark conceded. “Surely the Union has about as much of a presence here as in the System? And... they can actually do this?”

“It’s been brewing. I think they bided their time. I used to see things sometimes, on the old net, though I didn’t really want to know. I’m pretty sure this is the lot we don’t want. There’s two big easily defined organisations; one’s rebelling against the HSU because they hate them, we don’t know yet if they’d try to be better at all, and the other just wants to be the new HSU.”

“ _Two_? So that’s who the other lot were on the ship... Two groups who can actually throw their weight around. Weird that they started at exactly the same time.”

“I guess one got wind of the other’s plans and didn’t want to give them the advantage.” Mark looked at Eduardo and wondered if he was disappointed at not being able to go somewhere new, have non-Mark things to think about. It occurred to him, sharp and surprising, that he could ask, but he decided not to. He wasn’t sure what was okay or not with this Eduardo, and despite all the distance, felt there was a risk of falling into another nasty murky talk about Mark as seen by Eduardo.

The reason this was particularly a shame was because Mark kept having to swallow down the urge to say, “But what about my Facebook?” as if Eduardo could help him, answer the question. Some weird echo of the time when Eduardo was the person he talked to about Facebook, or just of the time when, if they were together, Eduardo acted as if it was his role to resolve things that came up for Mark. Mark didn’t think anyone could resolve the issue of himself and Facebook in any congenial way, though. He had to admit that at the end of the day, Facebook had been all about him. For Mark, that was. And everything he’d done had ended in making himself and Facebook all about the HSU. He’d thought himself free to ignore the way every path ended in the HSU, and all he’d done was be completely non-exempt from that with great success. He felt demeaned and oppressed, and it was probably just as well the world was turning upside down without providing him with a sympathetic ear. Mark’s feelings were always highly susceptible to being fed, by himself or others.

But on the other hand, Mark was good at damping them down to, and the awkward up-in-the-air status quo was maintained as they travelled onwards. Mark was feeling more ready to make a stop as they approached their next destination, only – beep went the screen again. DON’T COME HERE. UNLESS YOU CAN HELP? THINGS GOING BADLY.

“Wow,” said Eduardo.

“ _Another_ one? Two whole planets struggling that badly, and we’re sure we’re not just falling for a tactic?”

Eduardo looked as if he was giving it some serious thought. “I guess it could be that. I just don’t really think it is. Maybe – maybe if they’re literally _all_ like that we’ll reconsider.”

Mark didn’t really think it was just a tactic either. He’d thought they’d managed to get free, to an extent – nowhere to be, and the hope that they’d manage to get what they wanted from places that could make no claim on them. That “nowhere to be” was beginning to appear in a more fearful, literal light.

Maybe their situation was still what it had been when they’d been falling in the ship. The space of time before the end, the time to put himself out and do things he didn’t really want to do alive, nor yet leave undone dead. It just seemed so unlikely, that was the problem even when Mark seriously contemplated the idea of approaching Eduardo in some make-it-better way. You couldn’t mend things between people when you’d very definitely broken them. Mark had learned that, or at least, he’d learned that he didn’t know how. He looked across at Eduardo, who looked tensely into the middle distance, a line between his eyebrows. He knew himself. All he’d do would be to demand “So what do you want from me?” and it would be a circular bout of accusations and defences. If Mark was Eduardo he wouldn’t even think about having anything to do with himself again; he’d definitely have insisted on parting company at Anniwir. The only thing he could say that could change things was “I didn’t do it”, and maybe Eduardo wanted to hear that, but it wasn’t true. Ultimately, even an apology would be useless, even the most beautiful un-Marklike apology in the world. Maybe Mark could prove that to him one day, if he got demanding again, but there was no point in initiating it.

Happy with the progression of his thoughts, Mark felt much more calm and composed. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Eduardo picked up on it and became calmer and more settled himself. Calmly prepared was the only way to be in a time like this. The next two planets they passed were the same – UNDER ATTACK NO INCOMERS ALLOWED and UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT, CLOSED FOR BUSINESS RIGHT NOW. Mark and Eduardo had expected as much, but even though ships were supplied with enough food packets to last a while, they did have to think about a plan of action now so that their future selves might eat.

“If we don’t find somewhere that’s okay I guess we’ll have to go back and try Anniwir,” said Eduardo.

“Except they probably won’t let us land, will they? And if they do, they won’t let us go anywhere. And who knows if they even feed you.”

Eduardo acknowledged Mark’s point with a sideways tilt of his head.

So on they went. The nearer they got to the next planet, the more apprehensive they felt, because they kept waiting for that beep. Without it, the situation was uncertain in a way they hadn’t really prepared for.

“Is there a way for us to reach anyone who might be around here?” asked Eduardo, trying to walk past Mark to get to the screen they’d received messages on.

Mark pushed his hand against the inside of Eduardo’s elbow to stop him. “I don’t think we ought to announce ourselves. We could be asking for trouble we don’t need to have.”

“I don’t know. If we got a response we might feel like we know what we’re going into.”

Mark shrugged. “You want to carry on?”

“I guess we have to,” Eduardo sighed. “You definitely don’t think we should-” Mark’s face seemed to make him give up on repeating himself.

They landed on a station this time, shakily and somewhat nervously, it was true. The station was quiet. There were other ships there, all still and silent, but no people or people sounds.

“I guess you wouldn’t expect people to be travelling, really,” said Eduardo, in response to some _everybody is dead!_ fear in his head.

They hovered by their ship, trying to remember if there was anything they should take with them.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any weapons,” said Mark.

Outside the station there was a semicircle of buildings, dealing with ship parts and permits, Mark supposed. The station he’d set off from had been similarly crowded.

“If no one’s going anywhere, there’d surely be people to _stop_ them going anywhere,” said Mark with great prescience just as a man stepped out of the way between two buildings they were making towards. He had no uniform and Mark wondered if he was just a random person for a moment, before deciding otherwise based on the blue sash slung round his shoulders and his posture poised as if for trouble.

“Why aren’t you inside?” he asked, in a way that suggested they weren’t _allowed_ outside. “And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Mark and Eduardo looked at each other. Was it at all likely they’d be in less trouble if they pointed out they were arriving on rather than attempting to leave the planet? They were silent.

The man also seemed to be hovering between options, and with a gesture that suggested this at least was a good idea, he pointed a scanner at Eduardo. He had several things in his hands, and Mark hadn’t looked at them before. Now he saw a weapon, clasped a little awkwardly in the same hand as the scanner. Eduardo’s information came up of course, and the man laughed in surprise.

“Facebook! The ones that were kidnapped!” His hand moved in a you-and-him gesture, and was extended towards Mark’s neck to scan his chip.

Mark winced in anticipation of his first time seeing the red light flash, and hearing the voice of the machine announce aloud, “CYBORG”. “Cyborg!” the man echoed, and impatiently tried to peel his fingers off the scanner to get the weapon into his grasp properly. Mark felt himself thrown to the ground, and saw Eduardo tackle the man as he tried to adjust the setting on his weapon. They spun round together as Eduardo chased the man’s hand. Mark felt as if something had happened to him but he couldn’t determine its nature. He tried to rise but couldn’t control his limbs, and then he slipped out of consciousness because he knew no more.

“MARK!” Eduardo yelled, patting his cheek violently. “ _Mark_ , are you—”

Mark made a mmffing sound to signal that he lived. With a lot of effort he lifted his eyelids a little so he could see a frazzled-looking Eduardo in the line of world afforded to him. The word _frazzled_ set off associations he stalked a while. “Weapons!” he croaked, arriving at an awareness of his recent history.

“We have to go,” said Eduardo. “Can you... get up and stuff?” he asked doubtfully.

Mark made scrambling movements with his limbs. Eduardo hoisted him up and paused, letting Mark lean on him but supporting much of his own weight, to see if he fell down again. He didn’t, but he spotted the man from earlier lying crumpled on the ground.

“Probably dead. Don’t want to check,” said Eduardo, seeing Mark scrunch his face up warily in that direction. “We’ve got to get back to the ship,” he said,” and took Mark there as fast as he could manage, which wasn’t as fast as he would like. He kept twisting round to scan behind them, expecting the man to rise or someone else to appear in pursuit.

Back they went through the deserted lounges and waiting areas. Eduardo propped Mark against the side of the ship as he released the steps up to the door. “So that was a washout,” Mark said.

“Yeah,” said Eduardo, preoccupied, sizing Mark up and trying to decide how best to get him up the stairs.

“I can manage,” said Mark, and did, apart from slipping once.

“Shall I try and get us out of here?” asked Eduardo.

Mark made a dismissive gesture with his hands and headed into the control room. Back on the road again, he thought, definitely dizzy now with a splitting headache. He turned and squinted into the squiggling white and green encroaching on his vision to find Eduardo in the doorway. Eduardo held out an arm, fingers waggling, and Mark managed to make it over there to feel Eduardo’s firm guiding hand on his back.

“I guess you need to go to bed,” Eduardo said, and took Mark to the room he’d been sleeping in (only a single bed, not the luxury of the hijacked ship), put him into bed and smoothed the cover over him. Mark realised the fierce ache in his head had been demanding that he lie down and close his eyes. He expected to hear Eduardo leave the room, but he could sense him standing over him.

“I hate you. I really _hate_ you,” said Eduardo in a small, vicious voice. _Then_ he left.

 _What_? thought Mark, baffled. Eduardo’s room was a long way away from Mark’s, he remembered, the furthest there was. It seemed depressing to go and be alone after all that. Perhaps Wardo being angry had something to do with that.

Some hours later Eduardo shook him awake. “Are you okay?” he demanded, as if Mark was far away.

“I’m fine, go away,” said Mark.

A while later again, Eduardo came in to say, “We passed quite close to a planet, but I didn’t go close enough to pick up any signals.”

“I’m not a pilot,” Mark said. He wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but somehow he felt Eduardo was handing off some of the responsibility of the situation onto him, enabling him both to blame him if things went wrong, and resent him for taking control.

Eduardo didn’t seem to see what he was getting at. “I thought you’d want to know where we were. Vaguely. I feel like just getting on with it and getting a little further away from the Home System would be luckier.”

“Okay,” said Mark. “I guess that was the wannabe HSU people?”

“I guess. It seems like they’re killing cyborgs. I hadn’t heard about that before.”

“You don’t think it was just me?” asked Mark, trying to cast his mind back.

“Not really, he definitely reacted when the scanner came up with CYBORG, not when he’d already realised from me who you were. And it’s not like your information comes up now. If it wasn’t for that notice on Facebook most people wouldn’t know who you are now, which would probably be better.”

“Did it have our pictures? The Facebook frontpage?”

“Yeah,” said Eduardo.

Mark inhaled. “I hope they’re all right at home. I hope the Union was too busy to do anything to them, and I hope no one else is blowing them up.” It came out solemnly.

“Yeah,” said Eduardo, softly.

Mark didn’t know why he brought it up, well, apart from the urge to cut in further and find the real Eduardo rather than the protective casing. “Why did you say you hated me? I mean, why then, last night or whenever it was?”

Eduardo looked embarrassed and discomposed, shuffling from foot to foot, very _shit, you heard that?_ “I didn’t think you’d hear. I... well, obviously I have a lot of negative feelings associated with you, and I’d just had an upsetting, strenuous experience, so it was one of those things where you have a weird spontaneous reaction. Sorry, obviously it was inappropriate at the time.”

Mark liked that _at the time_ specification. Eduardo was behaving like a schoolboy trying to scrape together an alibi for a misdemeanour, but it was hard to think of a deep secret reason Eduardo had for saying “I hate you,” at that particular moment. Maybe Eduardo just felt inordinately guilty about it. Or maybe it wasn’t to do with saying it, but feeling it, and Eduardo thought he really should be over anything to do with Mark so that he was just a stranger he was spending time with by chance.

Mark didn’t want him to get over it, he realised, with the shock of the new. It actually made him jerk a little, and he covered himself by saying to Eduardo, “I think I need some more rest.” Eduardo hurried out gratefully, and Mark went back to alarmed self-examination. He’d always thought the rupture between him and Eduardo, the personal level part of it, had been about him just not caring. Not caring enough, maybe, about friends and their feelings and all that, but nothing involving active hopes and feelings about friends’ feelings. Specifically, wanting them to keep feeling hurt and shocked and never quite believing that it happened, having Mark like an old wound forever altering a body. Because that really wasn’t very nice, and Mark might think of himself as careless and ruthless, but finding vindictiveness and the will to hurt for the pleasure and power of it in himself, like something half buried in a riverbed and uncovered by a strong current, was taking him decidedly aback.

At least he seemed to have what he wanted? Eduardo talked about him like he was this fatal _thing_ he finally thought he’d got round but obviously hadn’t. It wasn’t so bad, for Mark, ending up with only Eduardo for company, but it must be lonely on Eduardo’s side of things. A particular kind of lonely, even. You’d think they’d have so much more to worry about right now, Mark thought impatiently. Maybe at some point they’d have the dubious fortune to actually get to that stage when the world was going so fast you could leave yourself behind. Mark kind of felt like jerking it off, but the timing seemed creepy. He fell asleep yet again, thinking about how Eduardo had never gotten over him, and trying to want him to. And then there was that thing where Eduardo basically saved his life. Perhaps he should have mentioned it.

*

Mark went to sit with Eduardo among the crates. Eduardo didn’t look up and silence prevailed for a minute or two. “Do you or did you ever have a thing for me?” Mark asked.

Eduardo’s head jerked up. His expression was odd; a frown of “where the fuck did that come from” and a gasp of “finally, this conversation” that wasn’t entirely unwelcoming, Mark thought. He seemed lost for words and fell back on “God, I _hate_ you.” His voice shook with emotion.

“In a way that makes you particularly interested in me, in a particular kind of way,” said Mark. He would feel stupid if he was wrong, insisting on telling someone how attracted to him they were, but he felt very sure. And Eduardo wasn’t denying it, just looking at him, breathless, waiting. “Did you like me when we were friends, I mean more than I thought you did?”

“You don’t deserve for me to tell you things. You think I’m going to, what, tell you all my secrets, show you my throat?” demanded Eduardo.

“That’s a tacit admission,” Mark pointed out.

“Why do you want to know? Do you really need to feel _more_ smug?”

Mark knew more definitely now than when he’d asked the question why he wanted to know: he wanted to do something about it. Getting from a to b seemed even more difficult.

“I do sometimes find men attractive, you know,” he offered.

“Right. So you’re out in space with no one else but me, who you’ve decided “has a thing for you” and in the circumstances you may consider putting out? I’ll have to wait a moment and see if I can believe my luck.” Eduardo had stood up and was at full outraged throttle.

“I don’t mean it like that.” Mark got up too and bravely headed over to Eduardo. He put his fingers round Eduardo’s wrist. The warm skin felt like closeness despite everything. “I find _you_ attractive. I want to – I try and mean well towards you.” He didn’t want the bitter anger, the friction of all that felt unfinished between them, not if they _could_ have something kinder.

Eduardo seemed to be closer now, and looking into Mark’s face with narrowed eyes. He closed his eyes and leaned closer, his hand touching the side of Mark’s face in an unbelieving way, and nudging his chin up. Mark closed his eyes when their lips met. It didn’t feel like they hadn’t done this before. It didn’t feel kind, either. Determined, perhaps. Mark was responsive but Eduardo was definitely in charge and he was sure that Eduardo would break away at every next moment.

He wanted to touch Eduardo but wasn’t sure where to put his hands, or if that would frighten Eduardo away. He pressed himself against Eduardo, feeling it wasn’t close enough, thought he felt an erection, shuffled into a slightly different angle and swayed in again to be sure. Oh, yes, Eduardo was hard. Eduardo’s dick was hard because of Mark, what a completely amazing thing. So he went for Eduardo’s cock first, cupping that erection through his pants, using the heel of his hand for pressure.

Eduardo’s hand darted quickly to cover Mark’s. He pressed down on it and moved it against himself once before taking Mark’s fingers and removing it. He put his hands on Mark’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length, looking at his face again. Eduardo’s face was flushed and his lips were parted. Mark put a thumb against his bottom lip and stroked sideways and in to find the wet inside. He kind of wished Wardo would suck his fingers.

Eduardo’s hands on his shoulders became harder, and Eduardo was walking him backwards. Mark looked behind to make sure he wasn’t being sent crashing over something, and, when he saw the way was clear, to see where they were going. Into his room, apparently. Eduardo put his hands flat on Mark’s chest and with an expression of relish pushed him with great gusto so that he fell across the bed. Mark couldn’t help wincing; he still felt a generalised tenderness.

“Sorry,” Eduardo whispered. He climbed on the bed next to Mark and began undoing Mark’s shirt like he was in a hurry. When it was off he pinched one of Mark’s nipples – Mark didn’t generally care about his nipples but he was feeling the sensitivity right now; maybe it would be nice if he bit one of them – and drew back to look at him some more. Mark was beginning to wonder what all this looking stuff was about. Even in this situation pausing to admire Mark’s shirtless beauty would be odd. Mark undid his pants himself and Eduardo pushed them down his legs. Then his underwear.

“I should leave you right now,” Eduardo said, kneeling up and resting his hands on either side of Mark’s head, looming in a self-consciously threatening way without even taking in Mark’s naked glory, much. “I should leave you naked and wanting me, shocked something you counted on fell through.” Ah. Those troubled dynamics and the nasty weight of their history were still with them. Mark did indeed suddenly feel more vulnerably naked but Eduardo sounded fairly hypothetical. He kept his mouth shut and looked steadily back. He liked having Eduardo’s face close to his. “Would that make you feel bad, Mark?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, certainly,” Mark said.

“Would you feel you deserved it?” Mark didn’t answer. Eduardo sighed which, more than the threat, harmed the mood for Mark. He slid down the bed, about to pay attention to Mark’s cock, which couldn’t help but improve the mood. His cock was straining against his stomach. Eduardo stroked the underside and it twitched. He looked calmly interested as he put his fingers and thumb round it, made a fist and squeezed lightly.

Then he sucked it, without any preliminary oral exploration. He sank down to take in as much as he could, then came back up to tongue insistently at the head. Mark watched his tongue curl as it swiped across, looked at his cock wet with Eduardo’s spit, and then at Eduardo’s mouth stretched around his cock again. He looked, trying to believe it while it was true, because he had no idea if it would ever happen again. Eduardo looked back at him through his eyelashes, making him, for a moment, want to close his eyes or turn his head to the side, but he couldn’t miss anything. Eduardo slipped his other hand between Mark’s thighs and started playing with his balls and tracing round his asshole. Mark began to feel too close to coming and tried to think of dull and unpleasant things. Eduardo seemed to suck contrarily harder. Mark felt like he was greedily determined to see him come. He put out a hand and touched a palm to Eduardo’s cheek. His skin felt hot. He was going to come, and then it would be over. Resignedly, he succumbed, thrusting up into Wardo’s warm wet mouth. Oh, but it did feel _so good_. He found himself shutting his eyes automatically, letting out a short sharp cry. He opened his eyes quickly, feeling breathless, his heart beating fast, to see his cock spurt a second, smaller jet of come into Eduardo’s mouth. He swallowed and licked Mark’s cock clean. It was too sensitive and Mark whimpered and pushed his palm against Eduardo’s cheek.

Eduardo sat up. He looked sad, and even if things weren’t all sorted out between them he wasn’t supposed to be sad while sex was happening. “Don’t you think it’s time you took your clothes off?” Mark asked, not knowing what to say but hoping the offer of getting off would cheer him somewhat.

“No. I’m going to go now. I can’t, I don’t want to be here, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t even want me to—”

“No,” said Eduardo, holding up his hand. He left the room.

Mark got up and went to the doorway and saw Eduardo disappear down the corridor to his own room at the end. “Why can’t you—” he said, but the sound of the bolt discouraged him.

He went back and put his clothes back on. Well, that was crushingly depressing. Another thing for Eduardo to resent him for. Maybe if they ever found a planet where life was actually going on okay, they actually could and should split up and make lives for themselves. If, on this hypothetical planet, neither the HSU not the would-be HSU held sway, he might be able to get along with no proof of identity or way to become a “formerly known as” cyborg. Maybe. And of course if things settled down he could go home... though to be honest, apart from the pull of family and friends, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. And if he went home, surely Eduardo would as well, in which case he’d be contactable if Mark ever felt he really needed to. But all this was make-believe. Who knew where everything would be in years to come? Right now all they had was an awkward situation. He did wish he’d got to suck Eduardo off. He thought he’d have liked that.

*

Mark was on it as soon as Eduardo came out of his room. “You’re _sure_ you don’t want me to suck you off?”

Eduardo looked surprised, and groaned. “Can’t you pretend it never happened?”

“You don’t want me to just once, to even things up?”

“This situation is weird. You’re lying in wait to ambush me with blowjob offers. And no, Mark, I definitely don’t want you to.”

“I don’t understand why you got into this situation if you’re going to be like this. I didn’t make you do anything, did I?”

“No. Look, I hate you too much, that’s all. It’s not healthy for either of us. You shouldn’t be having sex with someone who hates you, especially as we’re all alone together, it’s just ... not good.”

Somehow Mark hadn’t expected the answer to be as simple as _I hate you too much_. “So you hated being there?” He might as well know at once if the memory was completely ruined.

“No, I definitely still hated you, but I kind of liked feeling like that. I don’t want to get into all that.”

“I don’t mind if you hate me,” Mark said.

Eduardo laughed. “I’m not sure that doesn’t make it worse. Please can we just put it behind us?”

“I suppose we’ll have to,” Mark said grudgingly. He wasn’t going to ask, but then he couldn’t help himself. “Are you always going to hate me?”

Eduardo looked apologetic. “I think so? I think I really have gotten over it in a lot of ways; I can just accept how I feel as a fact of life and I’m not sitting there thinking how much I hate you _all_ the time. But you do have a distinct personality, and you did something that hurt me a lot because you’re who you are, and you’re still that person and all of you is soured for me. I don’t think I could undo all that if I tried.”

“Were you accepting how you feel when you had that ‘spontaneous reaction’?” Mark asked.

Eduardo looked sulky and shrugged.

Well. That was obviously an earnest piece of rationalization on Eduardo’s part, but you didn’t go down on someone for the pleasure of making someone you hated come if you weren’t still a little invested in them. A lot invested, even.

“So we’re never doing that again. A pity, seeing as we _are_ all alone together, but obviously I can’t change your mind.”

“You forgot ‘and it never happened’,” said Eduardo. He seemed upbeat enough now, in a wry way.

“Have it your own way,” said Mark. To make things easy instead of difficult – and there, Eduardo even smiled a little. Maybe Mark should change. On the one hand it seemed pointlessly fake to get Eduardo to like him as a whole different person, and he’d always cared so much about being himself -- _his_ own self, no one else’s – and on the other hand he wasn’t sure he liked himself that much anyway. Something to think about.

*

He called Eduardo. He probably would have anyway, but he _could_ have just made decisions and not even told Eduardo what they were doing until they got there. So he was being better than he could have been.

“Shall we try this planet coming up? I think I’ll see if anyone answers a signal,” Mark said.

“Yeah, go on.” Eduardo sat down and watched as Mark got out the manual and tapped in the code. “I hope this works. I think we really need to get the news.”

They waited impatiently. Mark looked at Eduardo out of the corner of his eye, at his hand on the armrest, the fingers rubbing themselves nervously. He tried to restrain lustful thoughts, the thought of picking up Eduardo’s hand and kissing the knuckles. Maybe it was just because there was no one else around to have any thoughts or feelings about. He didn’t think Eduardo had been a thing when they’d been friends. He’d wish they hadn’t had that weird truncated sexual encounter, seeing as how it had made him want more and unsettled him, but wanting things did fill in the time.

The screen beeped. In response to Mark’s request “IS IT SAFE TO LAND?” he received “I GUESS?”. “Could be a little more encouraging but...” Mark shrugged and looked at Eduardo.

“It’ll do. You can’t expect them to be wildly enthusiastic, not knowing who we are. I guess someone can see somewhere from the size of the ship that we’re not an invading force or anything. I took that weapon away with us, you know, do you think we ought to take it with us when we get out?”

“Oh, I didn’t realise that. You can, but I hope it doesn’t get used against us.” Mark did feel a little better knowing they weren’t totally defenceless.

The wait to arriving at their destination was a little tense. Having got disorientated by skipping planets without ascertaining which ones they were, they didn’t know what their destination was. “I’d have asked if it wouldn’t have looked so stupid,” Mark said.

“You’re getting better at landing,” Eduardo said when the time came, having been infected by Mark’s recent attempts at civility and random positive reinforcement. “Look, a sign. Welcome to Dijiett.”

“What does Dijiett do?”

“They pay taxes,” said Eduardo, trying to arrange the weapon unobtrusively in his sleeve.

Cautiously, they got out. This station wasn’t quite as dead as the other; there was a cluster of people in conversation by a ship over on the far side, some of them moving a pile of luggage into the ship. They looked nice and normal, real, other people, and Mark saw Eduardo look at them wistfully. Then they became aware of someone in uniform hurrying toward them, and froze slightly. On inspection she was a station type official.

“We don’t have a lot of incomers right now, but I was told someone was going to be here. Lost?”

“I guess so,” Eduardo said. She noted his accent with a faintly hostile expression. “We’re basically having trouble finding somewhere to be, so being able to at least touch base would be great...?”

“Oh, you can stay,” she said. “We’re not restricting the free travel of people around the galaxy. We’re a little off the beaten path, or it would be more apparent we’re exercising that policy.” She waved at the largely empty station.

“I think a lot of people _are_ restricting free travel around the galaxy right now. There’s no specific reason no one wants to come here we should know about? Who’s in charge?” Mark asked.

“We are. We’re rather enjoying ourselves right now. And for the present, we’re fine. If you could come this way, sirs.”

They were led over to the scanning area to be checked for illegal items. That was that weapon gone, Mark thought. It obviously came up on the screen and the woman came back round it to approach Eduardo with nervous determination. He stood meekly still and the weapon fell out of his sleeve as soon as she touched his arm.

“I’ll be keeping that,” she said. She took them away into the waiting areas. “You can make your own way from here. Your ship will probably still be here if you want to leave.”

“That’s reassuring,” Mark said.

“Are the stores open?” Eduardo said, looking with slight puzzlement at the usual cafes, restaurants and branches of interplanetary chain stores. The doors were open, the lights were on, but nobody was there, including staff.

“Kind of. Most of us are on strike, you see. You could just take what you want, most of them still have stuff. You don’t have to pay. Oh look, here’s yesterday’s newspaper if you want to catch up,” said, picking up a newspaper from a bench.

“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful,” said Eduardo. She looked as if she agreed, and thought it was more than they deserved. “Let’s see if they have coffee, I’d like some coffee,” he said as she left. They wandered into a cafe.


End file.
